House
by the-misfortune-teller
Summary: [I'll Be With You Through The Dark Follow On Fic] Fic based on the prompt "( 6.5 years) Moving in with Derek into the house he bought for them." [Established Sterek/Future Fic]


**(+6.5 years) Moving in with Derek into the house he bought for them.**

"This is so awesome!" Stiles grinned, flopping down on the couch with his legs over the arm, watching Derek as he brought the last box of his stuff inside. "We totally live together now."

"You mean I live here and you still have crap at two different places." Derek huffed as he stalked from the room. "It doesn't count as living together if all that is here of yours is you and your laptop."

"I've started packing!" Stiles grumbled, rolling off the couch and following Derek into the kitchen. He lifted himself onto the counter, drumming his heels against the cabinet below and smiled at Derek. "I've just got loads of stuff."

"Isaac doesn't seem to think you've started packing." Derek replied, yanking open cabinets in search of a glass. "Something about a box in the lounge that's half full of your clothes and has been there for a week." He frowned as he ran the tap, filling his glass. "Doesn't the lease on that place run out in a few days?"

"When can we have sex in here?" Stiles asked suddenly, trailing his finger along the counter top and looking around the kitchen with interest.

"What?"

"You heard. Sex. In the kitchen. When are we doing that?"

"Is that all you ever think about?" Derek sighed and set his glass down on the counter.

"When you're strutting around the place with no shirt on, yeah." Stiles hopped off the counter, crossing the room quickly before crowding Derek against the island in the middle of the kitchen and kissing him. "Don't try and pretend you haven't thought about it. About me bending you over this thing here and fucking you."

"Hasn't crossed my mind." Derek murmured, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, eyes fixed on Stiles' lips.

"You're an even worse liar than me." Stiles whispered with a grin, leaning forward and kissing him again. "You're totally thinking about it right now, aren't you?" He rolled his hips, grinding up against Derek and smirking when Derek made a high pitched whining noise. "I'm right, huh?"

"Maybe." Derek replied thickly.

"Too bad the pack are all coming over in, like, two hours." Stiles grinned wickedly with a glance at his watch. He pecked Derek quickly on the cheek and stepping away from him. "And I need to go see Deaton."

"I hate you." Derek huffed, scowling as Stiles left the kitchen and headed for the front door.

"No you don't!" He called happily over his shoulder.

"Yes I do!" Derek shouted after him. "I don't want to live with you anymore!"

"Yes you do!"

"Go home and pack your fucking stuff!"

"This is my home!" Stiles countered, slamming the front door behind, smiling up at the house, _their house_, thinking to himself that it was only home because it was where Derek was; it was the same reason why Derek's loft had always felt more like home than the apartment he'd been sharing with Scott and Isaac for the last year.

**. o o o .**

"Why can't I have montage moments?" Stiles called from the bedroom. "This could be part of my 'moving in with Derek' montage."

"Because contrary to what you seem to think, you don't actually live in an episode of Scrubs. You're not JD and Scott isn't Turk." Derek huffed, reappearing in the doorway and throwing a wet towel to Stiles. "What kind of idiot stands in tray full of paint? What's wrong with you?"

"You put it behind me when I wasn't expecting it." Stiles replied crossly, wiping the paint from his foot and glaring at Derek. "It's your fault."

"My fault for deciding to move in with an idiot." Derek replied with just a hint of a smirk. "If you get paint on the floor, I'm going to take you and all your crap back to your dad's."

"Yeah? And then who's going to fuck you over that thing in the kitchen?"

"It's called an island, Stiles." Derek sighed, deftly catching the towel when Stiles threw it at him. "Stop calling it 'that thing'. It makes you sound like an idiot."

"Whatever. I'm still going to fuck you over it. You do realise we've lived here for two and a half weeks now and we've only had sex like eighteen times and only in bed. Isn't the point of living with someone so you can have sex all over the house with them?"

"That what you did when you were living with Isaac and Scott?"

"Yep. All the time. Threesomes all over the place." Stiles grinned, scooting backwards to lean against the footboard of the bed. "Why are you so grumpy today?"

"Because you're not taking anything seriously." Derek huffed, picking up his rolling and turning his back on Stiles. "You're just being stupid and talking about sex all the time. We're supposed to be painting."

"I painted. It's not my fault I had to stop because you ambushed me with a tray of paint."

"You painted a cock on the wall." Derek complained. "And it'll probably three more coats of paint to get rid of it."

"Hey! That's modern art! It's a deep insight into my hobbies and interests."

"If you say so.

"Aww, cheer up, Tardar Sauce!" Stiles laughed, getting to his feet and hugging Derek from behind, his fingers dipping below the waistband of Derek's sweats. "You've got paint freckles on your shoulders to go with your actual freckles you know."

"You're covered in paint too." Derek muttered, fiddling with the roller in his hand.

"Am not." Stiles replied, looking down at himself as Derek pulled away from him and turned around. "Well, there's some on my foot still but generally not very painty."

"Yeah?" Derek asked with a worrying smirk. "What about that paint?" He moved quickly, much more quickly than Stiles felt was fair and dragged his paint covered thumb down Stiles' cheek, leaving a thick dark blue smear.

"Oh it's fucking on!" Stiles yelped, grabbing for the paintbrush he'd abandoned earlier and making a valiant effort to wipe paint on Derek's stomach.

"You're going to get paint on the floor." Derek teased, ducking easily out of the way of the brush. "Then you'll have to move out and we'll never have sex in the kitchen."

"I'm going to get paint on you, dickface. Stand still!"

"Hell no." Derek moved out of his way again. "Why would I let you paint me?"

"You painted me!" Stiles wailed, scowling as Derek ducked behind him. "And no fair. You're not allowed to use your stupid supernatural abilities on me."

"Preternatural, not supernatural." Derek smirked, grabbing hold of Stiles' wrists and walking him forward until he could pin him against the door.

"Don't argue semantics with me." Stiles complained, trying to kick Derek in the leg and ending up with a knee between his thighs for his trouble.

"Drop the brush."

"If I drop it, I'll get paint on your precious floor." Stiles pointed out as Derek mouthed at the back of his neck. "And then you'll make me go away. Nope, not down with this plan."

Derek laughed, his breath tickling the back of Stiles' neck as he yanked the paintbrush out of his grip and threw it onto one of the plastic sheets covering the floor. "I knew I should have done this myself."

"Hey, _I_ knew you should have done it yourself." Stiles grinned as Derek let go of his arms and turned him around, pushing him back against the door again and kissing him roughly. "I told you that two days ago but you chose to have a patented Hale hissy fit and demanded that I help."

"More fool me."

"More fool you indeed." Stiles smiled fondly before leaning forward and rubbing his nose against Derek's. "Aren't we done painting yet? I want to do something fun."

"More fun than painting a giant dick on the wall?" Derek asked with a smile.

"Well my plans probably involve a dick, although you pull a stupid face if I try and suggest it's giant." Stiles grinned, waggling his eyebrows as he tried to slip his hand down the front of Derek's sweats. "But less with the painting part."

"Finish that bit in the corner and then we can stop." Derek told him, giving him one last kiss and letting him go. "And no more dicks."

"Spoilsport." Stiles muttered as he retrieved his paintbrush. "I think you should fuck me in the shower when we're done to make up for your crankiness today."

"Or I could just apologise." Derek called over his shoulder. "Like an adult."

"I'm not accepting apologies that involve words. I only want apologies that involve your dick, my ass and that stupidly amazing shower down the hall."

"You're the most romantic person ever." Derek replied, deadpan. "I'm so pleased I moved in with you."

Stiles smiled to himself as he continued painting the small section in the corner of the room that was still peach; there was no way Derek would ignore the prospect of shower sex. Derek had admitted back while he was still living at the loft that he loved having sex in the shower; something about all the water and steam and being able to press Stiles up against the cold tiles and fuck him. Stiles loved it too, mostly because the one time he tried to top in the shower, he slipped, dragging them both to the floor and hitting his head on the tile which now meant that any shower sex always involved Derek topping, because in his words, he could be trusted not to fall over or drop Stiles on his ass. Shower sex was _awesome_.

**. o o o .**

"I think I preferred the kitchen floor in the loft." Stiles huffed a few days later, as he pulled his pyjama pants back on. "It wasn't all slippery. There was zero percent chance of me sliding all over the place and cracking my head open."

"It's never zero percent chance with you." Derek replied, leaning forward on his elbows. "You're alarmingly good at falling over. Am I allowed to put my pants back on yet?"

"No!" Stiles yelped, pressing up against him again. "We're going to have sex in this kitchen even if it kills me."

"It nearly did kill you." Derek reminded him. "Remember? A few minutes ago? When you slipped and nearly brained yourself on this thing?"

"It's called an island, Derek." Stiles crowed, looping one arm underneath Derek's and wrapping it around his chest to pull him upright so he could kiss the back of his neck. "We could compromise." He added licking and biting at Derek's shoulder. "I mean, you're already stood there all nice and naked, it would be foolish of me not to take advantage." He began kissing his way down Derek's back, digging his fingers into his hips to hold him in place.

"Take advantage how?" Derek asked teasingly as Stiles dropped to his knees behind him.

"Stop playing dumb." Stiles murmured, nudging at Derek's feet until he moved them apart further, bracing himself against the island. "It's not a good look on you." He heard Derek give a small huff of laughter as he ran his hands up the back of his thighs and pressed a quick kiss against his ass before gently pressing him open with his thumbs and licking.

Derek whined above him, and out of the corner of his eye, Stiles' could see him clutching hard at the edge of the counter, the work surface starting to creak ominously as he continued to lick at Derek. He pulled back slightly and pursed his lips before exhaling gently, grinning when Derek shivered and twitched at the feeling of cool air on sensitive skin.

"This, on the other hand, is a pretty good look on you."

"So why have you stopped?" Derek asked, in what he obviously hoped was a demanding, alpha-esque voice, sounding breathy and desperate instead.

"Aww, are you going to beg?" Stiles asked, leaning forward and licking at Derek again. "I like it when you're begging for it." He added before starting to work his tongue inside of Derek, probing and sucking at the ring of tight muscle. Above him, Derek made a devastating whimper noise that went straight to Stiles' cock, making him twitch in anticipation.

They ended up on the couch, Derek face down against the cushions as Stiles fucked into him; he'd pointedly ignored Derek's reminder that they were supposed to be having a boy's only poker night that night and that Scott would inevitably complain if he could smell sex in the lounge.

"Good." Stiles had whispered, leaning forward and wrapping his hand around the back of Derek's neck to keep him from looking up. "Maybe it'll put him off his game and I'll win for once."

He came before Derek in the end, and resorted to getting down on his knees again and blowing him, two fingers buried deep in his ass until Derek spilled down his throat, cursing loudly and his blunt fingernails digging into Stiles' shoulder hard enough to bruise.

**. o o o .**

"Everything smells like sex in here." Scott complained, leaning against the window sill and scowling at Stiles. "Even your kitchen."

"Oh no! Me and Derek have sex in our house like normal, consenting adults." Stiles muttered, rolling his eyes. "Would you please just sit down? No one else cares." He gestured to where Isaac and Boyd were already seated on the other couch, pretending he couldn't see the looks on their faces. They'd at least had the sense to pick the other couch, the one which hadn't seen any action that afternoon.

"You're just trying to put me off, aren't you?" Scott grumbled, perching on the edge of the couch, as though he'd end up covered in _bodily fluids_ if he leant back against the cushions.

"You're seriously accusing me of having sex with _my boyfriend_ in _our house_ just to put you off a game of poker?" Stiles laughed, getting off the couch and wandering into the kitchen to find Derek.

"He's totally freaked out." Stiles whispered, sidling up behind Derek and wrapping his arms around his waist. "He's complaining that everywhere smells of sex and doing his sad face. I'm going to milk him for any and all of his money."

"You're a strange kind of grown up." Derek sighed, entwining his fingers with Stiles'. "Was that the only reason we had sex this afternoon? So you could freak Scott out and take all his money?"

"Oh yeah, totally." Stiles smiled as he pressed a kiss against the back of Derek's neck. "Of course not, stupid. The sex was because you're gorgeous and very distracting and living with you is possibly the greatest thing to ever happen to me and I wanted to show my appreciation for those things. If I get the added bonus of freaking Scott out, then hell, I'm going to make the most of that!"

"I thought _I _was the greatest thing to ever happen to you?" Derek teased, dragging Stiles' hand upwards so he could kiss his knuckles.

"You are, oh cheesywolf. But seriously, I love living with you so much. I wasn't expecting it to be as awesome as it is. I thought it wouldn't feel any different to when I used to stay at the loft all the time but it does. I like it, I like waking up with you."

"You like trying to have sex in the kitchen."

"I like rimming you in the kitchen. Actual sex in the kitchen might take a bit of practice." He loosened his grip on Derek, letting him turn around and finding himself dragged into a filthy kiss. "We should probably start practicing right now. Drop your pants."

"I can hear you Stiles!" Scott called through from the lounge. "If either of you drop your pants, I'm going to come in there and neuter you! I know how to, you know!"

"Ask him if he's jealous because the only place that smells of sex in his house is the bedroom." Derek whispered, nipping at Stiles' earlobe before pulling away and smirking.

"You're so evil." Stiles grinned, disentangling himself from Derek's embrace and bouncing back off towards the lounge.

"That's why you love me." Derek called after him, stealing the words right out of Stiles' mouth.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yeah, pretty sure I'd do everything in my power to try and win a game of poker with werewolves too! Poker face, poker heartbeat.

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